I Am Starting A Collection Of Only

No One Asks How Or What I Am Doing. They Could Not Care Less. We’re All Looking Glasses, We Girls, Existing Only To Reflect Their Images Back To Them As They’d Like To Be Seen. Hollow Vessels Of Girls To Be Rinsed Of Our Own Ambitions, Wants, And Opinions, Just Waiting To Be Filled With The Cool, Tepid Water Of Gracious Compliance. A Fissure Forms In The Vessel. I’m Cracking Open.

I Want To Ask Him If It’s Possible That A Girl Can Be Born Unlovable, Or Does She Just Become That Way?

In Every End, There Is Also A Beginning.

Greetings, Ax Murderer! I Was Just Wondering How You Like Your Eggs?

And When It Comes, Her Kiss Is Like Something Not So Much Felt As Found.